Murder Aboard the Alphabet
Suspense · August 21, 1947 · 30 min · 3,738 words
The transcript of “Murder Aboard the Alphabet”, an episode of Suspense first broadcast August 21, 1947. Press a time to play from that line (a 60-second preview; Potato Plus plays it all). Suspense plays Suspense free, live around the clock. Search inside this transcript.
Machine transcript (may contain errors).
Transcript
In the diners and club cars of America's finest trains, wherever the knowing traveler seeks the last word in luxury, the first word in wines is C-R-E-S-T-A, V-L-A-N-C-A, Cresta, Blanca, Cresta Blanca. Yes, Cresta Blanca, California wine is the choice among those who set today's mode in travel as well as gracious living.
So enrich your dining, distinguish your entertaining with Cresta Blanca. When you pour Crestablanca Burgundy's sautern or any Crestablanca selection, you enjoy the finest in wine. Shenley's Crestablanca Wine Company live a more California. And now Shenley brings you Radio's Outstanding Theater of Thrills, Suspen, Presented by Roma Wines, that's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines, for your everyday enjoyment.
Tonight, Romo Wines of Fresno, California bring you Mr. John Lund in Murder Abord the Alphabet, a suspense play produced, edited and directed for Shenley by William Sphere. It is well past midnight now, and I write these words so that other men may know the full story of that ill-fated voyage of the deep sea tug alphabet.
The horse was not a large vessel, but sturdily built for its task. And though it seems in age, it was only a little over six months ago that we sailed from Liverpool, England. Bound out across the North Atlantic to deliver our ship to her new owners, a salvage firm of Boston, Massachusetts.
Hand-by to cost off! We put out with a reduced compliment, just a handful of men, twelve and all. We were a new crew, sent on board for this journey over the deep sea lane. and I sailed as sheep off under the command of Captain Gottlieu Walker.
Second made Harvey Goodroom and chief engineer Alec McCavish being the other members of our small saloon. I remember we departed on a cold wet day with a fog lying low over Birkenhead and the northwest wind blowing fresh in our teeth.
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